It's Okay
by whovianallover
Summary: From a prompty prompt over tumblr: Married!Sherlolly Sherlock wants to start trying for kids but doesn't know how to say it.


From a prompt over tumblr Married!Sherlolly Sherlock wants to start trying for kids but doesn't know how to say it. I suck at writing awkardness so it's a bit different but hopefully it's okay.

_Sunday Morning 9:14 - Molly's Flat_

Molly opened her eyes. Blinking the morning sun out of her lids, she turned in her bed to face a sleeping Sherlock Holmes. Molly had always thought he looked vulnerable when he was was always so in control of his mind in his waking moments that it was strange to see him stripped totally bare so he could just be himself.

Molly took his hand under the covers and felt for the ring that encircled his fourth finger. She smiled. Molly had insisted that if he wasn't comfortable getting rings that she was fine with it, but the idea of unifying themselves with the imagery of rings appealed to him.

Molly's brow creased. It was rare Sherlock spent the night with her and this was his third consecutively. Most nights he would feel confined and have to leave, usually for a walk to John and Mary's at 221B. Besides him staying with her all night, Molly realised how strange Sherlock had been acting _all week._ Well- strange for Sherlock.

_Wednesday Evening 6:47pm - Molly's Flat_

Molly was stirring a pot of tomato sauce on the stove, one arm braced on the edge of the benchtop, the other wrapped around a wooden spoon. Steam rising up in her face made her cheeks flush stepped backwards to evade the heat only to run into her husband who, before she could turn around, took her gently around her waist and hugged her tightly from behind.

"Hello, Sherlock." she said, turning her head to look at him.

"Molly," he murmured in her ear, his breath making her shiver, "what are you making?" Molly smiled. He was finally getting interested in food.

"Pasta with bolognese sauce." she replied, proudly. Molly never really was one for cooking. Prying his hands from her middle, Molly dropped the lid onto the pot containing the sauce and took it off the heat, leaving only a smaller pot on the stove. She turned around to face Sherlock, hips resting against the bench.

"Good," he said distractedly. He paused and then spoke again. "Molly, don't you think this house is a bit...unsafe?"

She shook her head. She had lived there four years prior to marrying Sherlock and _he_ was the one who suggested that they live there until they could afford a house. "What do you mean?" She asked, feeling a small pang of hurt. He shrugged.

"I mean that _anyone_ could trip and hurt their head on the corner of the coffee table, or the DVD cabinet, and the stairs-"

"There are five!"

"And yet, they still pose a threat the the underdeveloped human." Molly could only stare at him in disbelief. She counted to 5 before replying.

"Repeat what you said and swear-"

"_Molly-"_

"_Swear _that you are not calling me underdeveloped." He smiled, that beautiful smile he only showed for her.

"I only mean to warn you of these dangers before Mary catches you for lunch tomorrow and tells you the news." Molly forgot her recent anger and stood intrigued. She couldn't stay mad at him. Not really.

"News of what, Sherlock?" He paced a few steps closer to her and held her hands. "Mary is pregnant."

Molly's brow creased. _What? Mary...John? Oh..no, Mary was going to tell me at lunch! _"Really?" she breathed, "but I went out with Mary yesterday, I took my break when she had hers. We had lunch." She paused. "Mary's actually pregnant, isn't she?"

_Thursday Afternoon - 6:34pm - Molly's Flat _

Molly waltzed through the door to the flat, dropping her keys on a plate, which made a satisfying _kerlink, _and humming to herself quietly.

"Sherlock!" she called, not really expecting a reply. The sound of something which reminded her an awful lot of a baby rattle came from their bedroom. Walking into their room, painted a deep blue on the wall to her right and a barely-there beige on the other three, she saw Sherlock lying on the bed, hands steepled under his chin.

"You were right." she said, plopping ungracefully onto the bed, head hitting the pillow with a small thud. "Mary _is_ pregnant. They say they don't want to know the gender until it's born, but I bet you could probably work it out. There was something else too. Oh, yes! They want us to be _godparents_, Sherlock!"

Whatever response Molly expected from Sherlock, she didn't get it. His body was still as rigid as before and he showed no signs of having heard her. She sighed. Sherlock was brooding. Obviously the reality of John being a father was too much for him. After all, now that John was going to be a father, he would have less time for cases. Molly thought that while he was brooding, Sherlock would probably appreciate solitude. Molly sat up on the bed and stood to leave when a strong hand took hers from behind.

"Michael."

"What's this?" Molly said, swinging around to face Sherlock who had rearranged himself on the bed so he was facing her.

"Do you think Michael would be a suitable boy's name?"

Molly sighed. "We are _not _naming John and Mary's child. Besides, it might be a girl." She turned to leave again.

"Ellen." he murmured softly, Molly's presence in the room forgotten.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

_Friday Afternoon - Molly's break - Jo's Pharmacy_

Molly headache drummed against her skull. Every step she took resulted in a heavier throb. Entering the aisle for medication of colds and flus, she was stunned to see an aisle of makeup. Foundations and lipstick and all varieties of cosmetics littered the shelves. "Oh no," she breathed. Jo's Pharmacy was a big place, and that they had refurbished meant nothing was where it was before. Her head throbbed again.

Molly retraced her steps out of that aisle, and weaved in and out of the next few, eyes peeled for any sort of paracetamol. When Molly came to the fourth aisle, she noticed a familiar coal coat that clung to a familiar body. "Sherlock?" she called, walking into the aisle to meet him. He jumped. "What are you doing?"

"Shopping," he said stiffly. She stared at him in disbelief.

_"Shopping?" _Sherlock never shopped, he claimed he was always too busy, so everything he needed was put on Molly's shopping list and was bought when she went out. Molly had guessed he barely knew what a pharmacy was, much less where to find one.

"I believe it is what one does when one is in a shop."

Molly considered shrugging and letting him off when she noticed just what aisle exactly she was in.

"Sherlock, what are you doing in the baby aisle?"

His eyes widened and he stumbled for a suitable reply. "Umm..well yes- I'm not- I'm not-"

After letting him stutter for a bit, she cut him off. "Sherlock, it's _fine. _It really is." she grabbed his forearm, "You'll be alright. You're going to be a godfather!"

"No, Molly _really-" _he tried to correct her.

"Sherlock it's _fine! _You don't have to be all macho for me. It's only me."

He pauses and then mutters a small acquiesce.

"Now," she said, taking his arm, "where can I find some paracetamol, my head is _killing _me!"

_Sunday Morning 9:16 - Molly's Flat_

Sherlock had stayed asleep through her recollection of the past week and she was glad that he had unknowingly given her the time to think things through. His behaviour had been different, that was certain. He was less violent too; his affection for guns and noise had been taken elsewhere. His experiments, which Molly used to have to nag at him to clean up, had been cleared away on time.

It was almost as if he was trying to prove something. To whom and what for, Molly had to puzzle out for a while longer. She had thought that maybe it was something to do with Mary and John having a baby, but his actions seemed to all be for _her _rather than either of them and he was already godfather. So what else?

Sherlock was being more responsible, and tidier, concerned for the health of _underdeveloped humans,_ was shopping around in the baby aisle and she remembered hearing the rattle coming from their room. Something was different. And then she remembered. John and Mary were having a baby. A _baby. _The pieces of the puzzle finally came together.

Sherlock wanted kids. With her. _Children. _For a moment Molly couldn't breathe, and then her body forced her to push out her breath so she could take another in. She shifted as close as she could get to Sherlock and lifted a lock of his hair from his face. Resting her hand on the side of his face she began to whisper.

"It's okay," she said, "I want them too."

_**A/N I don't really have much to say. If you can guess where some of the names (**_**Clue**_**: **_**Pharmacy**__**and**__**Girl**_**'**_**s**__**name**_**) are inspired from I will shower you will virtual muffins.**_

-Rose


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